


Harmonise

by fizzyblogic (phizzle)



Category: All-American Rejects
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-25
Updated: 2007-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 20:31:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phizzle/pseuds/fizzyblogic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For EL.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Harmonise

**Author's Note:**

> For EL.

Tyson greeted the sight of Nick's shadow on the door, obscuring the reversed letters 'son Ri' and 'trics &amp; Gyna' on the glass, by stuffing all the files on top of the desk into the middle drawer and dashing over to turn the handle.

"Thanks, got my hands full," Nick said, holding up two paper bags and a small tray containing three Starbucks cups. He set them on the desk and turned to kiss Tyson's cheek. He smelled of the store; guitar strings and racks of CDs, shelves full of music books. "Mike around?"

"He's finishing up an ultrasound," Tyson replied, slipping his hands onto Nick's hips, teasing his shirt up a bit. "Want you to myself for a second anyways."

"Only a second?" Nick leaned into him, smiling, and Tyson exhaled against his mouth.

"More than a second," he breathed, "but just." He nudged their noses together and let his eyes close, running his bottom lip over Nick's.

Nick kissed him, soft press and just a little taste. "You okay?"

Tyson leaned his forehead against Nick's. "Just remind me," he said, "next time Gaylor starts making noises about further specialisation, I've got to say _no_ to oncology."

"I will definitely remind you of that," Nick nodded, circling his fingers gently on Tyson's back.

"Do. My answer. Is _no_." Tyson closed his eyes.

"Come here," Nick murmured, pulling him closer, fingers tracing patterns on the back of his neck and into his hair. Tyson let his breath out and kissed him, the only sounds their lips pressing and shifting, and the smallest of noises at the back of his throat.

"Hey - woah, okay, sorry," Mike's voice broke in after seventy-six breaths. Tyson could feel Nick smile as they moved apart, arms untangling.

"Hey Mike, I got you some coffee. Figured you'd need it by now," Nick said, selecting a cup and handing it over.

"Thanks." Mike smiled at them and sipped, dropping a folder on Tyson's desk. "The prints from the ultrasound. She's doing well."

"Excellent." Tyson picked the file up, flicking through the pages. "Everything normal and healthy?"

"Yep. The husband got kinda choked up when they heard the heart beat."

"Aww." Tyson handed the folder back.

"I'll go take this to Ryan, leave you to your lunch," Mike grinned at them. Nick rumpled at the hair at the back of his head with one hand, sheepish.

"Come get me five minutes before the next one," Tyson reminded him.

"I will." Mike closed the door and the lock clicked.

"Uh." Nick stared at his feet.

"So how about that lunch, huh?" Tyson sat back in his chair, rolling it to brace against the desk, and patted his thighs.

Nick snorted. "Isn't it kind of - I mean - you're at _work_. And I'm not sitting in your lap, come on."

Tyson pouted expressively. "I'm not at work _right now_, Nicky. And yes, yes you are." He surged forward and grabbed Nick around the waist quickly, pulling him in. Nick laughed, pretending to fight him off, but wriggled until they were both in a comfortable position.

"You know what I mean," he said, reaching over Tyson to grab one of the paper bags.

"What, that everyone in my office knows we're in here having ... lunch?" Tyson raised an eyebrow. It wasn't a subtle gesture.

Nick rolled his eyes. "Ass. You want the bacon sandwich or the beef? Chicken salad's mine."

"Nickolas, Nickolas, Nickolas." Tyson leaned his head against Nick's.

"Ty," Nick returned, trying hard to keep from smiling.

"Feed me." Tyson grinned and deepened his voice, chin pressing onto his throat. "Feed me, Seymour."

The corner of Nick's lips quirked up.

"Hah!" Tyson crowed. "I win. You smiled."

Nick laughed, shaking his head. "And they trust you with the health of New York's women."

"Damn right they do," Tyson pointed at the framed certificates lining the walls. "Come on, Nick, if you were a chick you'd want me on the other end of the stirrups. Admit it."

Nick snorted, burying his face in Tyson's shoulder. "You're such a fucking dork," he laughed.

"Nerd," Tyson shot back, nuzzling Nick's hair with his jaw.

"Your legs will go numb," Nick said, after a moment or two of silence.

"Nah," Tyson protested, despite the evidence to the contrary. "Come on, Nick, let's eat, then we can make out some more and -" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Nick threw a napkin at his chest.

"Dork," he repeated, handing him a sandwich.

"Whatever. You can't get enough of the Ritter." He puffed his chest out and took a bite, melting against the chair. "Good _God_, Wheeler, this sandwich is fucking delicious. What did you _do_?"

Nick shrugged. "Just made it, is all." He bit into his chicken salad roll.

"Marry me," Tyson said, in all seriousness.

Nick swallowed his mouthful. "What, so I can make you sandwiches for eternity?"

"Yeah. Maybe. Just - let's go to Massachusetts, get married."

Nick blinked, twice, and stared at him. "You're serious."

"_Yeah_ I'm serious, I don't know why I didn't think of it before!" Tyson ran one hand through his hair, abandoning his sandwich on the desk. "I just, I looked at you, and I thought, I want to marry this dude." He brushed a strand of hair away from Nick's forehead. "What do you say?"

"Okay," Nick answered. "I mean - didn't we say, that one time when you were sixteen and we talked about getting out of Oklahoma, didn't we say we should get hitched when we're thirty?"

"Oh yeah," Tyson remembered, slow smile spreading. He inched forward, catching Nick's mouth, and whispered into it, "Baby, been waiting all this time?"

"Maybe," Nick smiled, kissing him and tasting beef and bread and _Tyson_.

"We should invite Kennerty," Tyson said, when they finally leaned away again. He caught Nick smiling and asked, "What?"

"That sandwich _is_ delicious," he said, pointing to it.

Tyson took another bite. "Damn straight," he nodded, decisive. "My boyfriend is pretty much a genius in the kitchen."

"Your boyfriend has to get back to work in half an hour," Nick reminded him. "So eat up."

"But we got half an -- oh." Tyson bit his lip, the other half of his mouth curving upwards. "_Oh_."

"Matter of fact," Nick chewed the last of his roll, swallowed, "you can just go ahead and take your time eating. I'm gonna, uh." He slithered off Tyson's lap, brushing the crumbs away. His knees hit the floor.

Tyson blinked. "Fuck, _marry me_."

"I just said I would," Nick grinned up at him. "We can talk about dates and shit after I blow you, how about that?"

"Sounds like a deal," Tyson breathed, shifting in his seat. Nick yanked his shirt half way up his chest and unzipped his pants, pulling those down as best he could. Tyson lifted his hips to help, the sandwich forgotten on the desk. He felt cool air on his skin, then Nick's mouth, and he closed his eyes and tipped his head back. Nick made soft sounds in his throat as he sucked, tongue working, and his hair was soft under Tyson's palms. "Definitely gonna marry you," Tyson moaned, as quietly as he could. "Fucking - _yeah_."

Nick smiled, he could feel it, and it felt _fantastic_. Tyson tried very, very hard not to yelp as Nick gave three hard sucks, simultaneously running his tongue along and _down_, and that just wasn't _fair_ because Tyson was _done_ for. He arched his neck and kept as silent as possible as he came, twitching from his hips outward.

"I," he tried as Nick zipped him up again and rearranged his shirt.

"I was thinking about a June wedding," Nick said, like the conversation hadn't changed. Tyson stared at him.

"Please excuse me while my _spine becomes bone again_," he said, pointedly. "Did you have to do that thing, that thing where you do the thing and it makes me come _right then_?"

Nick patted him on the shoulder. "That's what's known as a 'quickie', Ty."

"Fuck you," he replied. "Don't expect me to be able to think again yet."

"No thinking required." Nick perched on the desk. "You gonna eat the bacon one?"

"If you mean what I think you mean, when we get home. If you mean the actual bacon sandwich, no."

Nick laughed, an explosive sound. "What the fuck, I meant the actual sandwich, you jerk. I'm not the one who yells 'Suck the roll' when I want to get laid."

"That was _once_," Tyson reminded him, beginning to sit up. "I was _drunk_."

Nick leaned in and butterflied a kiss onto his nose. "And that story will never get old."

"Shut up." Tyson leaned his forehead against Nick's and closed his eyes. "I love you, idiot."

"Love you too," Nick smiled, and nuzzled their noses together.


End file.
